"And what do you suppose we mean to do with you, eh?" "You mean to kill me," replied Thames, "by my cruel uncle's command. My son is going to build a spaceship to Mars someday right in this room. I have but to give a hint of that boy's existence in the proper quarter, and his life will not be worth a day's purchase. “There,” he said, “you don’t treat me fairly, Miss Stanley. But I am always afraid that he may get in while I am away. Satisfied, as he thought, that he had nothing to apprehend, the boy resumed his task, chanting, as he plied his knife with redoubled assiduity, the following—not inappropriate strains:— THE NEWGATE STONE. ‘And certainly I wish that Joan will come with us.
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